A first encounter of the third kindness



This time we are bringing you a special report sent in by a lady fan. So instead of giving you the usual fare as seen from the top, we are treating you to a female’s perspective, as she shares her thoughts and feelings at the receiving end of Osada Steve’s kindness.
This is the first of two reports of bondage sessions with Osada Steve. This encounter took place at Roppongi Jail, the second, at Studio SIX.


Background: ‘fairy’ is an ethnically Chinese middle-class girl from a South East Asian country, at the time 22 years old, articulate, educated and assertive in her daily life. She is also sexually submissive and for three years had been in a 24/7 D/s relationship with her Master who brought her to Tokyo, and as you’ll read, did not inform her what was going to happen to her that evening, in the club, in public.

The Report was written less than 12 hours after the event, while the images, thoughts and impressions were still freshly implanted on her mind. Enjoy.


When I had woken up from my nap, I was feeling worse than when we had first gotten back. Go out? Couldn’t we just stay in, relax or something? But Master was all dressed up – special shirt and all… and most importantly, He had that look on His face… yes, THAT look. I knew at once that Master had something up His sleeve… we were going to go out tonight.

He even had a new leather collar for me, with metal studs no less. Was Master going to bring me for some puppy play?

I really wanted to just stay in bed.

It was a struggle, of course… the train journey seemed extremely long, which was ample time to think, eat myself up. Master now has new ammunition to wind me up, but truly, I was feeling most depressed, pressurized, and so not horny. And out of that, a cry to Master: what if I was totally horrible? What if I threw up on whoever the guy would be? Master would then be most upset with me, extremely angry, and think I’m the most terrible slave ever.

The ‘what ifs’ were endless.

By the time we reached our destination station, I was totally exhausted, partly from my own self-torture, partly from the journey itself. I wasn’t really focusing on where we were walking; Master led me by hand. And all of a sudden, I was standing before a Caucasian gentleman whom I immediately knew was a Dom.

He was tall, probably older than Master, with shoulder-length white hair in a ponytail. Piercing eyes that weren’t really propping but still made you feel as though he was looking deep into your heart. Osada Steve, sensei, I think that was his name. He had the Dom aura… nothing overpowering, just a gentle quiet and calm strength which he was comfortably resting in.

I was confused as to how to behave. What was the Japanese BDSM protocol of behavior? How was I to greet him? I didn’t know a thing… so I figured lowered eyes would do.

Who am I kidding? My eyes were lowered all the time mainly because I didn’t dare look at him… I was afraid he would look in and see right through me… see… see ME.

It hadn’t really registered, with regards to what we were meeting him for. In the end, I figured he was just someone we were meeting for drinks, that he was showing us around, bringing us to a BDSM club… that sort of experience. The club we went to had a huge sign at the entrance, announcing to the world that SM people should go up that particular flight of stairs. And somehow I thought, SM people would just go there for drinks, in a room decorated with SM items (one does have to maintain the club theme), and discuss SM stuff. And true enough, the waitresses there were dressed accordingly, pieces of SM furniture were scattered throughout the place.
Ok, so it was just a themed club, that I can handle.

Then there was the rope transaction which I was cool with… so Master was just meeting someone whom we were buying lovely Japanese ropes from. In hindsight, I should have seen the link… Master telling me earlier on that he was a rope master and that oh, we had seen his video clip on the net… and the ropes placed right in front of me on the table, in a SM club. But I suppose somehow I just did not think that I would end up being in ropes entwined around my body by Him.

So we sat, we drank, we chatted and smoked. And then suddenly, I heard talk with Osada Steve suggesting to demonstrate how those ropes could be used — on me. And then I was asked if I wanted to visit the loo, to freshen up and remove my bra. Remove my bra? I know it would make me sound really slow, but it was only after I was in the toilet cubicle itself that it registered that I was going to be part of a live show, in front of an audience.

So I was hesitant, really hesitant. I was curious, but I didn’t want to do it in front of other people. I didn’t want to have to worry about the other people… I wanted the personal experience, shared with Master. So I quite literally begged Master… I wanted to blot. But… Master owns me.

On Osada’s instruction, I took off my boots and corset. I was relieved he didn’t instruct me to take anything else off. He was gentle in His instructions, and that made it easier for me. I think a lot of what happened next had to do with the man itself… I felt safe, I knew, even though I didn’t know him, that I could trust him, completely… perhaps, let go completely.

He started by tying my hair up into an intricate knot. I heard the waitress commenting to this customer who had just arrived that it looked as though Osada was a mother preparing me, doing my hair for me. And yes, I think it was a most appropriate description. Closing my eyes, I started to relax… and for some reason, it was a most easy thing to do. I don’t think I had ever felt that relaxed in a session with a stranger before.

Much of the session, I do not know how to describe… I cannot tell you how at such and such a point I felt this, or that, and so on — the most simple reason for that is, well, I was floating… and when you’re floating, you don’t think, you simply feel … “take the ride”.

Also I have no wish to think very deeply into the session, tear it apart and analyze it. That would just totally ruin the entire experience. Because I think the experience, in this case, is not to be aware of every single move made… but to take it all in its totality and just embrace it. And when you analyze too much, the beauty of simplicity is destroyed.

As I said, I cannot describe every single step. By the time He had finished with my hair, I was very relaxed, my body just went along and moved the way His hands directed it to. After the session, I was told how interesting it was that I behaved in that manner… but really to me, it just seemed the most natural and right thing to do, to put my hands behind my back. A gesture to indicate that I was ready, and then He took over.

My arms and upper body were tied. He then had me partially suspended from my left side. The ropes felt very secure and fitting, but not intrusive. They didn’t bite hard into my skin, and did not hug me so tightly that they crushed my chest. They were just… comforting, a firm but gentle hug… resting on me like a second skin.

Osada then tied rope around my left mid-thigh and suspended me from that point also. Then it was my right ankle… and soon, I was suspended horizontally in mid-air. And you know, it was totally liberating, to be hanging there like that, literally floating on air. Lastly, Sir tied rope around my bum and suspended me from there too. He then gagged me with a rope.

By that point, I was gone, really gone… I remember turning round and round, spinning the way His hands directed… and that was most lovely. No words can completely describe how I felt… the closest I can go is to say that I felt really free and secure, flying.

At some point, I felt something hitting my ass. Later, I learnt it was a rubbery sort of cats tail. I felt pain, yet, it was a most comfortable pain. The next item which Sir used produced a sharper pain which would make me cry out whenever it landed on my skin… but the strange thing is, painful as it was, it didn’t stop me from floating… in fact, I think it enhanced the experience even more — so much so that when He whipped me hard one particular time, I came.

The point is that I wasn’t in a totally horny and turned on mood — not an ‘ooohh I really want to be fucked now’ manner by the experience. So I think the orgasm was not so much a ‘fuck until you cum’ sort of orgasm, but more a ‘being so free mentally that the orgasm is a physical manifestation of that’ sort of thing. So after the orgasm I wasn’t like, “oh yes, I wanna be fucked some more and cum some more’ as would normally happen, as I would normally expect…. But more a feeling like I was breaking through chains, a sort of liberalization.

At some point, He stated letting me down. I didn’t want to be brought down though, but to continue flying in midair. Thinking back now, I seem to recall, my body was really quite limp by then. My feet were on the ground, but I was still being totally supported by Osada Steve and his ropes. I couldn’t actually stand and so was basically held up by the ropes, in whichever manner they tilted me.

Looking at the photographs later that night, I can now tell you that at some stage Osada exposed me to the audience, my skirt was hiked up over my hips, my breasts pulled out of the tight t-shirt and I was whipped again, but I don’t really recall. Then, from the photographic evidence only I know he first untied my legs, then loosened the ropes holding up my upper body, then took those ropes too, till I finally lay on the floor. I don’t really remember that… I only seem to remember tearing, tears rolling down my cheeks. No, I wasn’t sad or anything…. The tears just came… and perhaps, if one wants to be philosophical about it, you could say it was tears from the relief felt that oh yes, I could not have to be conscious and proper… since at all times, we are not totally ourselves because society dictates that we have to behave in certain a manner, be considerate of the people we share the world with. But in that experience, I didn’t have to bother with that anymore… that experience was really all about me being me, experiencing Me… and I was so relieved that I could just relax and be vulnerable, and feel myself… and so I cried.

Now, about 12 hours after that session, my entire upper body is aching and I am favoring my right side.

But now… I understand the phrase ‘freedom through bondage’ even more…. And I have to thank Master for giving me that experience, and Osada Steve for creating the way… I find myself more in touch with myself… and that’s one of the basic things of BDSM….

Her Master will bring her back to Tokyo, and of course to Studio SIX, to attend the weekly Kinbaku Live Night on October 4.


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  1. uhhh … *sweetest thrills* reading this post!

    ^.~ chokolate from Japan IS ultimative! DON’T have a bite!! You’ll get addicted before you know it!

    …at a certain stage, one discovers, no longer to have any (self)controle, nor any wish for it (…how Osada Sensei gets one there!!… still puzzles me) ~ Sensei moulds his models, her mind, body, soul. Trickin’ & playing her till she ‘surrenders’, -completely-, all focused & her heart all open.

    People around no longer matter, not even cameras ~ she is all seduced, utterly submitted, even without means of pain.

    Do believe, that sensation, once experienced, never leaves you ^.~ And others see reflections of it in the sweet ‘curly’ smile in the eyes of his models, when asking them, ‘what is kinbaku/ shibari’.

  2. I remember the evening at Roppongi Jail and I remember the intensity, also the lady staying there, in the middle of the room where she had been freed from the rope. I remember the silence of the audience under the spell after the whipping…which also reminds me, en passant, of the silence of the same room on another occasion…

  3. Hi there Fairy!

    I enjoyed your report a lot. It captures your emotions in an intense way and is very intriguing. Too bad I missed that event, still I believe that the depth of your experience would have been hidden from me anyway.

    Thanks for sharing those very personal insights and hopefully we will meet again one day!

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